


History Has Its Eye On You

by adotstein



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander cheats on his wife again, F/M, M/M, Revolution, and then tragedy, lots of fluff, what do you expect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 19:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6919861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adotstein/pseuds/adotstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort of behind-the-scenes Revolutionary War fic.<br/>Alexander Hamilton always writes like he's running out of time. Frankly, he's a bit of a mess. So he needs someone to help keep him in check while he simultaneously fights in the Revolutionary War, and is already drafting a new form of government for America, if they are freed. John Laurens does too, honestly. What is it with these crazy workaholics? Eliza tries, of course, but she can only keep him from dying at Yorktown. So the revolutionary men have to do it. John Laurens seems to excel at it the most... Not because Alexander has a hot gay crush on him or anything. It doesn't help that same-sex relationships are quite taboo in this society, either. The war goes down, and just when things finally seem like they're settling down, guess who shows up? Thomas Jefferson. That's really all there is to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	History Has Its Eye On You

-History Has Its Eye On You, Chapter 1-  
June 26th, 1778.  
Alexander Hamilton sat on an empty barstool, taking a deep swig from his pint. He was bent over a haphazard stack of papers, quill clutched in his fist. A candle glinted dimly next to him, much too close to the still-drying parchment. He was drafting a set of essays and letters for one George Washington. George had asked Alexander to write a letter, begging Congress to send them supplies, weapons, more men. The revolutionaries would accept anything, at this point. Of course, that wasn't all that he was writing. He was drafting a plan for their new government, should they win this revolution. He wanted to be prepared. Alexander leaned back and rubbed his eyes, setting his quill down for a moment. He was exhausted. He hadn't slept a wink in at least a day or two. He couldn't remember. George would be furious if he found out, but Alexander was great at hiding it, now.  
It must have been past one AM, already June 27th. The day before General Washington had planned for the battle at Monmouth. Well, in wasn't really a planned battle. Washington has received word that the British were marching up through New Jersey, so he had decided to intercept them. The fight was expected to be a long one, and the odds most certainly weren't in their favor. The men had been advised to say a permanent goodbye to their families, but Alexander really didn't want to think about that at that moment.  
The bar was practically deserted, so when Alexander heard the door open, he almost jumped. He turned to look, feeling eyes on him.  
"John," he greeted with a small, tired smile. John Laurens returned it with a raised eyebrow, sliding into the stool next to him.  
"Alexander," he began, his tone slightly accusatory. "What is this? What are you still doing up?" He held up one of the essays, glancing over it. Alexander sighed, taking it back from him.  
"I'm writing letters for Washington. We desperately need supplies. We're going to resort to eating our own horses, if this goes on for much longer. To say nothing of gunpowder and bayonet polish. Honestly, I'm not sure if we have enough supplies for another battle. It's worrying," he said quickly, setting his quill down. "Why are you up, Laurens?" He became defensive as he set aside the other essays.  
"Oh, really? I'm sure that Congress doesn't need..." John trailed off as he began to count, completely ignoring Alexander's question. "How many even are there?" He sounded slightly bemused.  
"Funny you should ask, because I just counted an hour ago. There are fifty one letters to the various members of Congress, and to a few person contacts of Washington's. I'm not sure how he thinks that they'll help, but he told me to write to them, anyways," he gestured over at the other essays, lying through his teeth. "You didn't answer my question. Why are you awake, Laurens?"  
"Fifty- what?!" John started laughing out of shock. Though, really, what was he so surprised about? Whenever Alexander wasn't fighting, his nose was buried in stacks of parchment. "You do realize that we're planning a battle tomorrow, right? At Monmouth," John gave Alexander a look, ignoring the question again.  
"I know we are. How could I forget our general's oh-so-delicate attempt at subterfuge? I just haven't really been thinking about it. Too preoccupied with manning Washington's stupid journal," Alexander scoffed, deciding to drop his question for now. He'd ask again later, and wouldn't stop until he got an answer. "We're never going to win. With that incompetent idiot Lee as our general, anyways. He is the worst thing to happen to this revolution since Congress," he shook his head. John chuckled dryly, running a hand through his hair to keep it out of his face.  
"Don't be such a pessimist, Alexander. Though, really. Tell me about it," he shook his head, too, before looking at Alexander, who had seriously been about to respond. "Don't actually tell me about it, please," he said quickly, suddenly serious again. Alexander had always admired that about John. He always knew when to joke around, and when to be serious. He was good at finding that balance. "Hamilton, please, just go to bed. George is gonna have our asses if he finds out," John's eyes practically pleaded with Alexander.  
"John, we need supplies, or we're going to die anyways," he countered. John sighed again.  
"Well, I'm leaving. Just promise me you'll get some sleep, Alexander," he shook his head, standing up.  
"Sure," Alexander frowned as he watched John leave. He looked down at his essays, reading over some of them. He picked up his quill again, beginning to write.  
Alexander must have finished at least nine more before realizing he was misspelling words everywhere. He mentally groaned. John had been right. He packed up his work, deciding to pick it up again after they fought. Provided he was still alive, of course. He walked home slowly, stumbling once. He made sure to find a messenger to deliver the letters before he arrived home, knowing that he had to reach Congress as soon as possible. He opened the door to his small home, not even bothering to change as he crawled into bed next to his sleeping Eliza.  
Strange and disturbing dreams haunted Alexander that night. Dreams about the battle, mostly. He dreamed of every possible outcome. He dreamed of a win filled with glory, the drinking songs that would follow. He dreamed of a gory loss, his own death, of stalemates. He dreamed of John's death, as well as Lafayette's and Mulligan's. He woke up several times, covered in a cold sweat.  
Alexander couldn't have been happier when dawn finally broke from his window. He kissed Eliza's head gently, seeing that she was still asleep. He felt a little sorry. She must have stayed up late to wait around for him. He rubbed his eyes and got out of bed, putting on his uniform. Just as he was about to leave the bedroom, he heard a voice behind him.  
"Alexander?" Eliza asked sleepily. He turned to look at her.  
"Eliza," he said, smiling warmly at her. The worry was thinly disguised in his expression.  
"You were restless last night," Eliza whispered. "I could feel you tossing," she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, sitting up.  
"I was," Alexander nodded. "I was up late writing letters for the general," he added.  
"You're going to battle today," Eliza surmised, the tired expression on her face rapidly turning to one of worry. Alexander looked at her, his face falling slightly.  
"Yes," he answered simply, adjusting his uniform slightly. Eliza frowned as she looked at him, walking over to him in her nightgown. She hugged him tightly, like she would never get the opportunity again.  
"Stay alive," was all she said, sounding like she was on the brink of tears.  
"Hey, Eliza. Don't worry, I'll be back," Alexander smiled softly at her, tucking her hair behind her ear. Eliza looked up at him, her eyes teary as she leaned up to kiss him. Alexander kissed her back gratefully, feeling a little unsteady himself. "Don't worry," he repeated when she had finally pulled away.  
"Be home by supper," Eliza said quietly as Alexander turned to leave again. It was an impossible promise, and they both knew it. Nevertheless, Alexander knew he had to respond.  
"Of course," he turned to kiss her once more. "I love you, Eliza," he lifted her hand, kissing each one of her fingers. "If I'm gone for more than a day, I'll write," he knew that would be the case. Alexander turned to leave again. For real this time.  
"I love you too," Eliza went back to bed, burying herself under the blankets. Alexander gave her another small smile before leaving, closing the door quietly.  
He had his gun slung across his shoulder as he walked briskly towards the Continental Army's meeting spot. Only then did he allow his expression to become solemn. He was worried, but, at this point, death wasn't what was worrying him. He imagined it so much that it felt more like a memory, anyways. He wanted to die like a martyr, if at all.  
Alexander shook his head. He couldn't be thinking like this. He had promised Eliza that he was going to stay alive, and damned if he didn't keep that promise. He tightened his jacket and walked quickly towards the meeting place.  
"Monsieur Hamilton!" Alexander heard the French accent greet him before he even entered the tent. He grinned.  
"Monsieur Lafayette," he greeted. Marquis de Lafayette grinned at him.  
"Are you ready?" He inquired. Alexander briefly bit his lip, not even having to consider this.  
"Do I have any other option?" He intoned. "Are you?" He returned the question.  
Lafayette chuckled. He had begun to respond, but was interrupted by a very loud voice.  
"Alexander!" Hercules Mulligan called, sauntering up to them.  
"Ah, Hercules Mulligan. What a relief to see you," Alexander was delighted to see his friend. "What about you? Are you ready?" He raised an eyebrow.  
"I am," Lafayette answered, smirking slightly. "I always am," he added.  
Mulligan looked almost offended at the question.  
"You should know the answer to that," he scoffed, his tone jokingly offended. "I'm always ready to rough up those daddy-loving sons of bitches," he cracked his knuckles.  
"Good," Alexander chuckled. Mulligan and Lafayette joined him in laughter.  
"What're you ladies laughing about?" A grinning John Laurens asked while ambling close to them.  
"Ah, Laurens. It truly is a party now," Lafayette teased, a smile on his face.  
Of course, all men were aware of what was about to ensue, but the tent's atmosphere was joyous. Drinking songs were sung, though no one was stupid enough to get drunk (well, Alexander definitely had some doubts about Lee). People were telling jokes, laughing. All probably to distract themselves from what was sure to be a horrible, gory defeat. At least they had twelve hours before really having to think about it.  
"Don't be an ass, come on," John rolled his eyes playfully at Lafayette.  
"I'm not being one, although I certainly have one," Lafayette poses jokingly. More laughter ensued.  
"Oh, come on. No one wants to see that. Especially in here," Mulligan joked around with them easily.  
"I don't know, Mulligan," Alexander jokingly looked at Lafayette's ass. "I'm pretty sure he's right. What do you think, Laurens?"  
John stifled his laughter as he looked, too.  
"I think you're right, too, Lafayette," he declared.  
Lafayette laughed with them.  
"Well, fine, then. I guess I stand corrected," Mulligan held his hands up in a gesture of joking surrender.  
Alexander turned to see a smiling Aaron Burr walking up to them.  
"Ah, if it isn't Aaron Burr, sir!" He grinned, referencing their first meeting.  
"Alexander," Burr nodded, smiling. He looked slightly nervous.  
"What's got your knickers in a bunch, Burr?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. Lafayette looked at him for a moment, having never heard that phrase before.  
"It seems that no one is taking what's going to happen tomorrow seriously," Burr said quickly.  
"We're just enjoying what could be our last few hours of happiness," Mulligan countered with a frown.  
"Yes, but-"  
"Mulligan is right," Alexander interrupted. "What's the point of going into a battle feeling discontent with life? If we don't do this now, then the men won't have a reason to do their best, besides the small hope that we can win. Everything has to have a point. The point of this is to give us all hope. We know very well how horrible our odds are, Burr, but we have hope. We're reveling in each other's company, since these are probably the men we're going to die with. I suggest you do the same," he rambled. Aaron stared at them for a moment before shaking his head, walking away.  
"That was strange," Lafayette stared after him.  
"Wow, Hamilton. You really talk too much," John teased.  
"Oh, shut up, Laurens."  
"He's right. I thought you'd never shut up," Mulligan added. The men laughed.  
Their conversation went on in this fashion, a few serious matters occasionally dropping in. They discussed their families, and Eliza, since Alexander was the only one married. They discussed anything that they could think of, or had a particularly strong opinion about. Alexander could've gone on like that forever.  
Several hours later, the tipsy Continental Army cheered uproariously as a smattering of applause from the front of the tent announced the arrival of George Washington.  
"Why do you show up with us? Shouldn't you be with him, since you're his right hand man?" John whispered to him.  
"Because he told me to. I have to listen to all of his direct orders. All of the time," Alexander murmured back to him. He made his way to the front of the room, seeing George gesture for him to do so. He stood next to him, beside a small podium. Charles Lee stood on the other side of it, and it angered him. He despised Lee with a burning passion.  
"Did you finish those letters?" Washington asked him, quietly enough so that the rest of the men wouldn't hear him.  
"Yes, I did. I sent them off this morning," Alexander nodded. "Sir, I have something I wish to discuss with you, later," he added.  
"Good. Meet me in my office after we're through with the battle, then. Focus your attention on that for now," Washington looked down at him again.  
"Yes, Sir," Alexander sighed softly, looking back towards the men. He caught Mulligan's eye, and grinned at him. Mulligan chuckled and grinned back.  
"May I have your attention please?" George called. The men immediately stood at attention, posture as rigid as possible. "As you were," he said immediately. The men relaxed, but stayed silent as they stared up at their general.  
"We march for Monmouth today at nine. We should be able to intercept the British army marching from New Jersey there," George addressed them all. "You have one more hour until we set out. I advise you to use it wisely," he raised an eyebrow as he studied his men. He took a step down from the podium, looking at Alexander. "A word."  
"Of course," Alexander followed George to his desk, standing right in front of him.  
"I hope you know just how terrible our odds are," George looked tired, like he hadn't slept in days.  
"I know, sir," Alexander frowned. "But we're going to do this. We're going to rise up and snatch our freedom from those red-coated bitches," he declared bravely. He heard a few cheers rise from the crowd behind him.  
"That's what I like to hear, Alexander," George rubbed his eyes. "If we are to have any hope of winning, we have to be ready to run into it head-on. We're going to overpower them by outlasting then," he banged his fist on the table.  
"Sounds like a plan, commander," Alexander smiled slightly. "Hopefully, Congress will have gotten my letters today. The supplies should arrive tomorrow."  
George looked relieved.  
"Good. We desperately need it," he stood up again. "Rally the men. We leave in fifty minutes."  
With that, the general left.  
Alexander couldn't help but be a little excited. If George let him fight in this one, then he would make sure they at least pulled a stalemate. He went back to his motley crew of revolutionary men, pulling the gun from his shoulder.  
"Well?" Laurens prompted, one eyebrow raising.  
"Let's go," Alexander grinned, starting to clean out his weapon.  
More cheers arose from the men around them, who were eavesdropping, no doubt.  
Charles Lee looked a little scared.


End file.
